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Encounter
������������������ ENCOUNTER Episode One, Season One, of Heartland. Enjoy <3 HUNTER I’m definitely having a bad day. Well most of my days are bad, but this is one of the worst. I glare around me, spotting a few heads popping out here and there but they disappear before I could focus on my gaze on them. I give a sigh of impatience and flick my tail. I narrow my blue-green eyes, feeling fairly unsatisfied. Prowling alongside the riverbank, I flex my claws, feeling my muscles ripple through my pelt. Some rabbit scurries across my path and with a snarl, I snatch it up and break its neck in one clean snap. I drop it to the ground with disdain and crouch down to eat it. After that, I continue to roam the river, my blue-green eyes flitting from side to side, glowering at the nearby cats. Most of them come from the small village nearby, Camille once described it to me— Stupid. I berate myself. Just the name brings up unnecessary thoughts and memories of a pale gray she-cat with beautiful, jeweled green eyes. Camille. My girlfriend. Or ex-girlfriend I should say. She broke up with me this morning, saying something like I was too rash, and that if I didn’t change my attitude, I’d probably drive everyone away. Not that I care. I can deal with this loss, I have other cats. Well, besides the fact that I don’t actually have any friends. Anger and frustration courses through me. I’m itching for a fight. I dig my claws the soft dirt. I couldn’t go ravage through the camp for several reasons. First, they all hate me or something, I’m not too sure, I’ve only been there once with Camille. Coincidentally (not really) today so she could tell everyone what a fox I am. Then she dumped me and told me she never wanted to see me again. Joy. I sigh loudly and flicked my tail. In the water, my reflection is constantly wavering, showing me as almost a shadow of a cat. Camille’s last words to me run through my head but I push them away. Forget her; I’ll find something – or someone – else to help me. Muttering, I pace the riverbank once more, anxiety and adrenaline rushing through me. Not sure what else to do, and still craving for a fight, I start towards the Clan border. The village that I live next to is rather isolated, surrounded by small hills. But just beyond the borders is NightClan. They’re rumored to be formidable fighters, which makes my blood boil. Just my type of cats to be fighting. They better be good; I’m not waltzing towards my death only to find that they’re pitiful fighters. When I reach the border, the stench is nearly unbearable. I walk up and down the border, trying to find a cat scent. When I find none, I lift a paw to step over the border, something that is clearly forbidden as of the Clans to rogues meeting a few moons ago. Stars, as if I care. “Step over the line and your life is mine.” I raise an eyebrow to that. “Who’s speaking?” I ask, almost lazily, my eyes darting along the forestline, trying to seek out the speaker. “Doesn’t matter,” a tom steps out from the shadows, “this is Clan territory, kit, step away.” I bare my teeth and flatten my ears. “I’m nineteen moons old; do you really think I care what you say?” “And I’m thirty,” the tom retorts, “you rogues never understand. When I say stay back, you stay back. This is NightClan territory and you cannot entire without authorized permission.” “Well I deem myself authorized enough to entire any territory I wish,” I roll my eyes and step across the border. He’s faster than I think. The moment my paw touches the ground he bowls into me, his claws sinking into my shoulders. I wince at the pain but I kick out, anger already fueling me onwards. Poor tom, he doesn’t know what he’s getting himself into. Before I can even scramble to my paws, the tom has me pinned down. “Give it up,” he sneers, “you’re nothing compared to a Clan cat.” I snort and throw my weight forward, catching him by surprise. I must be heavier than I think. We tumble to the ground and I throw my paws up, catching the tom in the head and giving him some quick and hard blows before backing up. The tom is bleeding from several scratches but other than that, he seems unfazed. I’m breathing hard. These Clan cats must train harder than I think. The scratches on my shoulders sting and I grit my teeth to shut out the pain. I can take more than a few wounds. He lunges for me once more but this time I duck and send him sailing over me. I kick out, catching him in the stomach before the tom lands gracefully and spins around. I stumble in my attack, surprised to see him not even wincing from my hits. He takes this moment to land a hard blow to my head before forcing my face to the ground. I groan slightly as my face smashes against the dirt. The tom pins me down once more, this time in a twisted position to keep me from fighting back. “Give it up,” the tom snorts, “you’re no match for me.” I growl angrily but the tom keeps my face pressed against the dirt floor. “Let go of me,” I spit out, “I’ll flay you.” “I think the Council can decide your fate,” the tom begins to haul me up, “I’ll let you spend a few nights in prison.” “Wait!” A rather shrill voice sounds behind me. The tom pauses, my face still half in the ground. “He didn’t do anything wrong.” “Excuse me?” The tom digs his claws a little closer and I wince, which only causes me to stab myself a bit more. I let out a hiss of pain and the she-cat’s voice draws closer. “I’m sorry to interrupt but I’m sure he didn’t mean to do any real harm. He just seemed…upset that’s all.” “Miss, this is Clan business.” “He’s not a Clan cat.” The tom ponders over that one and hauls me up. “Fine, take him back where he belongs,” he mutters, “make sure he stays out of trouble.” I glare balefully at him, debating whether or not it would be worth to lunge at him and tear his throat out. Perhaps then, he could drag me off to prison and I can sit out the rest of my life without worry. Except for the fact that there’s this tiny black she-cat glaring at me. I glare back. She’s small, though she looks around the same age as Camille. Her soft brown eyes are filled with an edge, though she still has the kind sort of look Camille takes on whenever she used to stare at me. “What do you want?” I finally say, when we’ve stared at each other for probably over five minutes. She shakes her head impatiently, “Come on; let’s go near the village so I can patch you up.” “I don’t want you to patch me up,” I argue, “I can take care of myself.” “Your wounds are going to get infected,” the she-cat informs me, “and I need to take you back to the village for questioning on what you were doing on the Clan border and--” I snort and pull away from her. “As if I’d let you take me there.” Hurt flashes across her brown eyes. “What’s wrong with the village? They’re a lot nicer than the Clan, I bet you that much. They won’t torture you or anything, you just have to tell them why you were there so they can make sure you aren’t some criminal or something.” “Yes because criminals will tell you their motives,” I say sarcastically. “Look, I don’t need your help, and I don’t need to go to the stupid village.” “I’ll be the judge of that,” the she-cat insists. When I don’t budge, she waits for me patiently. “Standing there and staring at me makes me want to tear your throat out instead,” I snap, “I’m not going with you anywhere.” “At least over the hills so I can pick up my herbs and treat your wounds,” the she-cat reasons, “Here, I’ll promise you this. I’ll treat your wounds and if you tell me what you were doing on the Clan border, I’ll let you go.” I eye her suspiciously, “And if I say no?” “Then I’ll take you to the village instead.” I laugh sharply. “What makes you think you can bring me to the village?” I curl my lip, “I’m a lot stronger than you are.” “You and your violence,” the she-cat actually seems to look slightly impatient. “I don’t understand why you toms always resort to violence. Why can’t you just sort everything out peacefully?” It hits a little close to home. It was something Camille had said before she told me to get out. I draw away from the she-cat. “It drives me on,” I snap. I turn to stalk away, only to realize I’d be entering Clan territory. I’m not in the mood to let any more Clan cats get the best of me. The she-cat is still waiting where she is. “Come on,” she urges, “it’s a good deal.” “It’s a terrible deal,” I hiss but I let her lead me towards wherever her herbs are, “I don’t even need your help.” I try to bunch my muscles and leap up the hill but at that moment, my leg gives away to the pain and I crash head-first into the side of the hill instead. The she-cat stares at me, amused. “I don’t suppose that’s how you climb hills?” “Isn’t this how you climb one?” I mumble through the dirt, “You headbutt the hill into it moves out of your way. I swear it’s a common thing around here.” The she-cat chuckles and I drag myself up the hill and spot her herbs. “Let me guess, you’re going to rub a bunch of scent-filled leaves over my pelt so I could walk around like an attractive flower. “Close,” the she-cat picks up one of the leaves, “I’m going to make you smell disgusting instead.” “Wow,” I say, my voice dripping with sarcasm, “thanks so much.” “You’re welcome.” I grit my teeth as she rubs the leaves over my wounds. It stings, I note quietly, but it does soothe the pain once the stinging sensation subsides. “Seriously though, what’s the point in fighting?” The she-cat remarks as she wraps cobwebs over my shoulders, “Can’t you just talk it out peacefully like normal cats?” “Yes because I’m going to sit and argue and bore the cat to death instead.” I roll my eyes, “Plus, it takes too long.” She gapes at me. “It takes too long? You’d rather shed blood because words and finding a way to solve problems peacefully takes too long? I can’t believe you.” “Nobody does,” I say truthfully, “Though I’ve talked to one cat for the past two moons and before that it was me, myself, and I.” That makes the she-cat pause, her brown eyes sparked with curiosity and stars, pity. But the pity fades rather quickly. “What a lonely life you must live.” “I can manage,” I mutter. “Don’t you have a family?” The she-cat tilts her head, her brown eyes searching mine. I stiffen, painful memories flashing across my eyes. A tipped head, laughing, eyes glittering with happiness. The blood. “No,” I stand abruptly, “no I don’t.” “That must be terrible,” she continues, “did you have any siblings-?” I tense immediately and my eyes harden. The she-cat notices immediately. “Fight me.” “Excuse me?” I bare my teeth. “I said fight me.” NOELLE "You're still muttering. I told you to stop muttering." I glare at the tom padding alongside me. His face is contorted into a grimace, but he straightens up when he sees me looking at him, faking a look of nonchalance. "I'm not muttering," I tell him. "Yes you are. Nasty things, for such a sweet-looking she-cat. You hope I fall headfirst into a pit of mud?" His eyes glint like chips of ice. I shake my head. "Don't call me 'sweet-looking' like you know me." "Sorry. Didn't mean to offend you. You look like a troll." We're almost to the village by now, to my relief. I can't wait to get rid of this guy. Who does he think he is? "Maybe I should've fought you. Taken you down." He laughs, a harsh, humorless sound. "I suppose you think that because I'm injured you stand a chance against me?" I choose not to say anything. He's right. I'm tiny next to him, and he is built for fighting, rangy and muscular. I've always disliked cats like him, mostly because I'm so different from them. I've always been petite and hopeless at hunting--even worse at fighting. It's just the way I was born, and by now I've gotten fairly accustomed to always looking up when I talk to cats. And scheduling three times as much time for hunting as a normal cat would to get the same amount of prey. And not getting into fights, because I would get my tail kicked. Though apparently that happens to all of us. I glance over at the tom. Exhibit A. "You still haven't told me what you were doing on the border." He shrugs. "It's not really a border. It's still part of Heartland." "You know NightClan cats can be defensive." "Would you like an award for Understatement of the Year?" "No thanks. Were you looking for a fight?" "Yeah." I try to make my tone unintrusive. "Why, though?" He's silent. Busy looking at his own shoulder in confusion, as if he's never seen such a thing before. "Yes?" I ask. "It stopped bleeding." "What did you think I used up half the herbs and cobwebs I gathered up today on you for?" I demand. "So you could keep staining the ground red?" His expression sours. "You didn't have to do that," he says, almost condescendingly. "You're welcome," I snap back. "Anyway, we may not be friends or anything--" "May? We are definitely not." "--but the point is, I wanted to know what you were doing here so I could warn you. It isn't safe for us, not even the locals who live here. And the closer you get to NightClan's Main, the closer you are to danger." "Sweet. I think I'll go to NightClan's Main." I shake my head. "If you're looking for a place to stay, you could come down to the village with me." "We've been over this. I'm not entering that village." "Fine. We'll find you somewhere else to stay. But first I need to recollect some supplies." He gives me a peculiar look. "You don't even know my name," he says. "You realize that, right?" "And you don't know mine. What's your point?" He shakes his head. "Nothing." I mutter something nonsensical--which I hope he will think is a great insult and cry about in my absence--under my breath and wade out into a thick patch of plant growth. I use my nose to guide myself through the tangle of weeds and useless shrubberies till I find a verdant patch of dock--even better, with silvery strands interwoven between the leaves. "Sorry spiders," I mutter as I scoop up the cobwebs and roll them up. When I finally back out of the herb patch, the hill is abandoned. I frown and look around. "Hello?" He was right; I don't even know his name to call for him. A funny stone of disappointment settles in my stomach. He was a jerk, and I'm not sad to be rid of him, but I did hope to help him. I wander a ways down the hill and find his trail. Right towards NightClan's Main. I raise my eyes, seeing the mountain where they have their army base, a jagged gray fang rising out of the ground. I shudder. If he wants a fight, he's headed in the right direction. He can't be too far off by now. I could still stop him. But he obviously doesn't want my help. And I have much more to worry about. With a small sigh, I point my paws towards home. I know myself too well. I know the real reason I want to run after that reckless tom. He might be rude and arrogant, but there is a vitality about him that draws me. After so long spent in a small, earthen den, hearing the sound of her labored breathing and racking coughs, even going out to fetch herbs is what I consider an adventure. Meeting another cat, a healthy, lively one, throws me even more, reminds me of everything I'm missing out on while I wait, suspended in the twilight zone between life and... not life. Perhaps that healthy, lively tom is hellbent on getting himself killed, but even that is to be envied about him. He can make the choice as to which side of the line between breathing and stillness he wants to be in. She doesn't have that choice. "Noelle." Her voice drifts out of the den as I hover at the entrance, thin and watery, like the very last shimmer of sun before the night falls. She senses my hesitation, the way I balk as the smell of sickness hits me. "Noelle." My name, again. She rarely talks; we haven't spoken in days. I don't hold it against her, of course. She's in too much pain sometimes to do anything but scream, and other times she's exhausted and silent, a living corpse, a shadow of the future. "Noelle. Daughter." The cobwebs tumble from my jaws as I break from my stupor. I step into the den. "Mother," I murmur. My eyes find her in the dark. She is harsh lines, cut in shades of gray and white from the stone around her. Ribs like ridges, bone pressing through a sparse pelt. Her face is skeletal, the eyes enormous above the sunken cheeks, the nose runny, the muzzle pink and red from where she's bitten down to keep from screaming too loudly. The dying are romanticized sometimes, tragic heroines slowly falling under the weight of their sicknesses, bearing the pain like angels, faces lifted towards the light of the paradise that inevitably will be their destination, at peace with the world and themselves. Suffering is painted as noble, and sufferers as martyrs. It's none of that. Sickness is me waking up panicked and covered in sweat, thinking I've escaped my nightmares only to find the nightmare has woken with me, wrent in my mother's screams and captured in her tortured eyes. Sickness is crawling around in the darkness, trying to see through my own tears to find poppy seeds to numb my mother's pain while she yells curses she doesn't mean and twists in her nest. They call it the Wasting. A slow death. No one knows what it is, just that it kills. It's very rare. There is no help, as everyone in my village has told me from the beginning, but I never stopped trying. I've talked to everyone I know, I've gone anywhere there's even a rumor of a cure. I've tried every plant, every treatment, every possible thing I could think to do. All of that, all my efforts and desperation, cannot have lead me to this moment. But they have. "Noelle," she whispers. "It's time for me to go." My mother was once beautiful. And I'm not talking about on the outside, though she was that too. A little on the plumper side, smooth-pelted, twinkling eyes the color of the bluest sky. It hurts to remember these things, but I have to, because who else will? Who will remember that her name is Rachel, that her favorite food is mouse, that she is strong and kind and good, underneath what the sickness has ripped away? I remember her laughter, her sense of humor, her warmth. The way she'd pull me close at the end of the day and not let go of me till morning. How can she let go now? I stumble to her side and collapse beside her. I can feel the soft, faded beat of her breath, and when I press against her, I can feel her shivering against me. "Don't go." All of a sudden, without knowing how it happened, I'm crying. Breaking down like an idiot, as if my tears will magically do what nothing else has and restore her. I can't bear it. After all those moons, after all the frantic running around, this can't be the end. I tried so hard. "Don't give up. Look at me, Ellie." It's been so long since she's called me that. I let out a choked sob. "I'm here. I'm here, Mom." "You can heal this world, Ellie. You have so much good in you. So much light. Don't ever..." She can't finish her sentence. Her body seizes. Her breath starts coming out in rattles, but she manages to gasp, "I... love... you." "I love you too." That line, between breathing and stillness. Between--and I finally have to say it, as my mother's last breath echoes in the small cavern--life and death. How easy it is to cross that line. My mother is gone. The End Category:Cchen3's Fanfics Category:Heartland